You Haven't The Slightest Idea Yet (The Second Bering 1)
by CobaltBlue94
Summary: Claudia's trapped in the Warehouse fighting Paracelsus. HG is MIA fighting against her truth. Myka's battling cancer fighting for her life. With their 3 best playmakers down for the count, the remaining Warehouse agents struggle to stop Paracelsus with the help of a very unexpected new face and a lot of ingenuity. B&W. Slight Claudia/OC. Entire Warehouse family.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One - The Second Bering

* * *

**Oxford University – London, England, UK**

Students rushed out of a lecture hall, leaving behind a young woman, the lecturer, at the front of the room. The young lecturer smiles and shakes her head, beginning to organize her files. A booming voice sounds, frightening her.

"Quite an impressive presentation on women's suffrage of the Victorian era, Miss–"

"Des," the young, dark-haired woman cut in. "Please, it's just Des, Mrs. ...?"

The stocky, African American woman smiled softly and held out her hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Des," the older woman said, purposely skirting around the issue of her name. Des shook the woman's hand as the bespectacled woman continued to ask questions, or rather, intimidate them out of her. "Tell me, Des. How old are you?"

"Twenty-four, ma'am," Des answered. She looked down bashfully, "I know I seem a little young to be lecturing, but I hold a PhD in–"

"History. World History to be precise. You've also studied Geography, Geology, and Sociology. You have Bachelor's Degrees in Investigative Criminal Justice, Forensics, and Physics, but your true passion lies with History and Literature, am I correct?" the older woman asked.

Des befuddledly answered. "Yes, uh–"

The nonchalant, yet clearly exceptional older woman smiled again, this time in amusement and offered out her hand once more. "Allow me to now properly introduce myself. My name is Irene Frederick. I'm with the government, and I'm here to extend the offer of a position."

Des narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What kind of position?"

"One of endless wonder," Mrs. Fredrick answered. She reached into her handbag and withdrew a package of papers. "Enclosed is your airline ticket, passport, the coordinates of the location to which you are to report to, as well as where you'll be staying. One of my people will be waiting at the airport in Featherhead to escort you to your vehicle and provide you with the keys. I'll contact you again when we'll be needing you. When that time comes, I would advise you to pack wisely. The rest of your belongings shall be shipped. Good luck, Dessa."

Des looked down to the flight itinerary and coordinates. "Wait, what's in–" she glanced up to speak to Mrs. Frederick directly, but there was suddenly no one there. ". . . South Dakota," she finished lamely. She turned her head to look around the room. "Hello? Mrs. Frederick?"

Upon receiving no reply, Des glanced back down to the package. "Endless wonder . . . " she mused aloud. "Huh. Well, this should be interesting."

* * *

o

"A new Warehouse agent?!"

As Mrs. Frederick had expected, the entire room burst into chaos. Comments, questions, objections, and concerns flew around the conservatory of the B&B. Everyone had something to put in on the matter at hand. Pete's voice, however, rang out above the others.

"Whoa! Guys! Hold it, hold it!" he yelled, breaking through the uproar. All the others in attendance quieted, and Pete turned to face Mrs. Frederick, Mr. Kosan, and Jane Lattimer. "When was _this_ decided? And why didn't anyone tell _us_? I mean, we've been doing this for four years now! I think we've earned at least a courtesy heads-up on these things."

Mrs. Frederick stepped forward to explain. "This decision was not made recently, Peter. The plan was set in motion quite some time ago," she informed them.

"When?" Abigail asked curiously.

The two Regents and Mrs. Frederick shuffled uneasily at this.

"Well, if no one else will say it," Jane Lattimer spoke up after a long silence from Kosan and Mrs. Frederick. She turned to Artie, "While you were under the effects of the astrolabe, Arthur."

"We were worried that you might not return to us as you were," Mr. Kosan further explained. "If that had been the case, the Warehouse would have required a new curator. So we had to find the next in line for the job."

"You were going to replace Artie!" Pete exclaimed in outrage. "What are you–"

"Pete," Artie cut in firmly, giving the man a serious look. "They were right to look. The Warehouse _must_ have a custodian."

"Well then, why not one of us?" Pete demanded. "I mean, we know the Warehouse and the Warehouse knows us. We've worked there, inside that building, for- for _years_!"

Artie shook his head like he did when he was trying to explain something that the others were missing. "No no no no no," he said. "The Warehouse custodian is like the caretaker. Like _every_ job involving the Warehouse, it is not something that just _anyone_ can take over! The Warehouse chooses the agents and the curator and the caretaker. The Warehouse knows what she wants and she settles for nothing _but_ exactly what she wants."

"So, you found the next curator," Pete stated simply. "And that's great and all . . . but Artie's _fine_, so why do we need this person _now_?"

"Because we're outnumbered," Steve said suddenly, immediately jolting everyone's attentions onto him. He met Jane and Mr. Kosan's gazes over the heads of his fellow agents who sat at the round breakfast table. "Paracelsus is just one guy, but he's got enough power to take down a whole SWAT team right now." Everyone looked down, accepting the truth of Steve's statement as he continued to speak. "Mrs. Frederick's not the caretaker anymore. Claudia _is_ the caretaker, but she's trapped inside the Warehouse with a five-hundred-year-old mad scientist. Abigail's still pretty new at this– uh, no offense or anything," he added sheepishly to the new innkeeper.

Abigail held up her hands in submission. "None taken," she replied, "I'm _way_ in over my head with this one."

"Aren't we all. Anyway, The Regents are still rebuilding from Sykes' attack last year, we don't have HG Wells, and Myka's going through cancer surgery–

"Which she failed to inform everyone, besides Pete, of," Artie interjected disapprovingly. Everyone was silent for a moment afterwards.

"The bottom line is," Steve concluded, "with Claudia, Myka, and HG being down for the count, we're lacking our best puzzle-solvers and strategists. I think we need this new person."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," said a voice from the doorway. Everyone in the room looked to the newcomer and Pete, Artie, and Abigail got to their feet.

The woman was younger than any of the agents had pictured. _A lot_ younger. Her dark hair framed a heart-shaped face that was full of a strange mix of confidence and anxiety. What struck everyone in the room the most, however, was how strangely familiar the young woman's eyes made her seem to them; the shape and the cleverness in them, that unmistakable spark of enduring hope and life and determinedness.

Pete couldn't quite place it at the moment, but he knew that he knew those eyes. He knew that he looked into similar ones all the time, but he couldn't figure out whose eyes this stranger's reminded him of. There were too many more pressing thoughts pinging around in his mind.

The newcomer cleared her throat, and everyone seemed to snap back to reality. Steve was the first to step forward, with an outstretched hand, since it was him who the woman had been speaking to.

"Hi. You must be . . . ," he looked over his should at the three authoritative figures for an answer but he needn't have.

"Des," the woman answered. "Short for Dessa."

Steve looked back to her with a smile, just as she looked down to his hands, both of which still held her single one captive in his nervous grip. "Oh, right! Sorry!" He hurriedly released her hand. "Steve, short for Steven Jinks," Steve introduced himself. He turned to allow Des to see his friends. "This is Artie, otherwise known as–"

"Agent Nielson," Des said knowingly. She pointed to the others in turn. "Peter Lattimer and Abigail Chow," she finished to odd looks from the mentioned agents. Des nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and explained, "Um, Mrs. Frederick has brought me up to speed on the Warehouse and its agents."

Mrs. Frederick stepped forward with a rare smile and offered her hand. "Dessa. Thank you for coming."

Dessa took Irene's hand graciously. "It was a pleasure to finally be called in for more than a tour and debriefing of the Warehouse," she replied. "Though I was rather awestruck by both. I'm still having a hard time getting my head wrapped around the idea that all this even exists."

"Yeah. Join the club," Pete told her bluntly.

The newest recruit turned her head to look at him. "I'll still do whatever is necessary to help," she told him sincerely, with a look that made Pete feel like she was seeing straight into his very being.

"Which," Mrs. Frederick began, "brings us full circle, back to the matter at hand. Paracelsus and Claudia. Myka. Warehouse 13."

"The fate of the world," Dessa stated plainly enough, receiving surprised and impressed nods from all the others in the room.

"Precisely," Mrs. F concluded.

As all the Warehouse agents, including Abigail and Dessa, took a seat at the breakfast table, Mrs. Frederick looked over her shoulder at the two Regents standing behind her. The way that the dark-skinned woman regarded Kosan and Jane gave Pete a vibe that would have knocked him over had he not been sitting down.

"My plan is as follows: Mr. Kosan will call a meeting of the Regents to discuss a more thorough strategy, while Arthur, Jane, and Peter will research alternative ways to put a stop to Paracelsus's plan from the B&B," Mrs. Frederick explained. "Dessa, you will go to the hospital and . . . _introduce_ . . yourself to Agent Bering, then you will return here to help Agent Nielson and the Lattimers."

"What do you want me to do?" Steve asked her, bewildered as to why he was left out of the plan.

Mrs. Frederick leveled him a look over her glasses. "You and Abigail will be coming with me, Steven," she stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. "We have a very pressing matter to attend to."

* * *

o

It was the most pain Myka could remember being in since Helena had tried to destroy the world and she had run from her happiest place on earth to hide from her truth. Though that pain had been emotional, whilst this was most _definitely_ physical. Even the drugs they had given her hadn't erased the enormous ache Myka felt all over her body.

Surgery really sucked, Myka concluded.

A light tapping sound alerted the hospital-bound woman to the presence of another nearby, and Myka turned her head to see a man in a white lab coat smiling gently at her.

"Good to see you awake, Myka. Nurse Susan informed me that you were conscious," Dr. Prattler explained. "How are you feeling?"

Myka swallowed thickly. "Sore," she said. "Really, really sore. And groggy."

"Ah, yes. That'd be the anesthesia still wearing off, but the pain . . . it's very typical for post-op patients this soon after a surgery," he assured her.

She nodded thoughtfully. "And . . . did it work? The surgery, I mean."

"It's too soon to tell, Myka," the doctor told her. "There are more tests to be run, more results to go over. But, as soon as I know, I'll let you know." He paused briefly. "In the meantime, there's someone here to see you."

Myka leaned her head back against the wall and sighed. "If they've got red hair, bushy eyebrows, can tell you're lying, or go by the name Pete Lattimer, can you just tell them that I need some time?"

"Honestly, Myka, I'm a little offended you think so little of me," said a coy voice.

The doctor smiled, but looked rather surprised at the visitor's sudden appearance, however he stepped aside to allow Myka to see the person who had just stepped into the room.

"Des?" Myka gasped, face widening with a smile. She stretched her arms out for a hug and Dessa happily stepped forward and bent to hug the older woman. "What are you doing here? How did you know I was here?"

Dessa hesitated and eyed the doctor, who took the hint and excused himself from the room. Des grabbed a chair and pulled it up closer to Myka's bed, looking the curly-haired woman over analytically, like she was seeing more than what was physically there. She took Myka's hand firmly in hers.

"You look like hell, babe, but you don't have to be scared. You're not alone, Myka. Ever," Dessa told her firmly, squeezing her hand.

Myka tilted her head back to laugh this time. "I forgot that scrupulous talent you have for being able to read people's minds."

"Not _minds_, Mykes," Dessa argued indignantly. "_Emotions_."

The older woman laughed softly. "That still doesn't explain why you're here, though."

Des looked nervous, though Myka had no idea why until she finally blurted, "Mrs. Frederick contacted me. I'm apparently destined to be the next Warehouse curator and she offered me a job as an agent and _thanks, by the way_," she snapped sarcastically, "for telling me what you were really doing in South Dakota all these years!"

It took even Myka Bering's sharp mind to process the words coming out of Des's mouth and put them into actual thoughts and finally grasp those concepts. "You're a Warehouse agent now?" was all she could managed to get out when a few meager dredges of her usually endless supply of words finally returned to her.

"Yup."

"And you're going to be the new-Artie?"

"Eventually."

"And you left Oxford University in London to fly to Nowhere, South Dakota to because Mrs. Frederick told you to."

"I was promised endless wonder," Des explained.

Myka nodded with an amazed and disbelieving smile. "Well," she said finally, "it's good to see I'm not the only crazy Bering in this family."

Des smiled. "We probably inherited from Grandpa Bering," she returned playfully. Her face turned less happy and more serious, as she clasped Myka's hand. "I'm just glad fate brought me back into my favorite cousin's life again."

"Dessa J. Bering," Myka announced to no one in particular. She squeezed Des's hand, "It's good to see my cousin again. I missed you."

"I missed you too," Des answered sincerely. She paused in thought for a moment, then spoke again, "You do realize that if our dads ever found out about all this they'd both have heart attacks, right?"

"Yeah. That heart attack already happened to my dad when he touched Edgar Allen Poe's notebook," Myka said simply.

Des's eyes widened. "Was that what that was?" she exclaimed.

Myka smirked. "Des, you don't ever have the slightest idea yet."

* * *

**So, I'm planning on this being a multi-chapter fic. We'll see what happens, but I've had this idea floating around in my head for awhile. Well, I've had the idea of Des Bering's character floating around in my head for awhile. **

**Anyway, let me know what you think so far.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two- And All That Was Left Was Darkness

* * *

**Boone, Wisconsin**

"**A**re you sure this is a good idea?" Agent Jinks inquired, glancing at the two-story suburban house with disbelief and skepticism.

Mrs. Frederick and Abigail rounded the side of the car to meet Steve where he had stopped in front of the black SUV. "Have you come up with a better plan of action, Agent Jinks?" she inquired knowingly.

"Irene is right, Steve," Abigail added diplomatically. "We can't heal Myka's illness or make the Warehouse release Claudia, but we _can_ try to appeal to H.G. Wells. Right now, this is the only thing that is in our control."

With that having been said, Steve had no choice but to resign himself to the task that the former-caretaker had delegated. He couldn't wait for Claudia to be out in the world again and able to become the new, younger and more laid-back Mrs. Frederick.

As the actual Mrs. Frederick approached the door and Steve fell into step beside Abigail, he couldn't help but mutter, "Well this should be good."

* * *

**A**s much as Des had wanted to stay by her cousin's side, she knew that Mrs. Frederick and the Regents had brought her into their fold for a reason and that reason involved saving both Myka's and Claudia Donovan's lives. So as soon as Myka had fallen back to sleep, that was what Des set out to do. If it was one thing Des Bering knew how to do, it was research, though Artie had mentioned before she left that most of their resources were inside the Warehouse and therefore limited.

Which was what brought her back to the B&B with Artie, Pete, and Jane.

"It's no use, Artie," Pete said finally, throwing the book he'd been reading back onto the table and slumping in his seat. "Without the actual Warehouse files, we're at a loss here."

"I'm inclined to agree with you on that, Pete," Artie acquiesced. "No texts, no archives, no Warehouse database, no–"

"Whoa, hold on a minute," Des interrupted, turning in her seat the face the other two. "Did you just say database? As in, _computer_ database?"

"Yes," Artie grumbled with narrowed eyes.

Des literally face-palmed. "Well, why didn't you tell me that in the first place?" she demanded, grabbing a laptop off the nearby table.

"I didn't see how that information changes anything, without actually being _in_ the Warehouse . . . " Jane Lattimer trailed off.

"We would have to hack Warehouse 13 to access its database," Pete finished dejectedly. "And the only person who's ever been able to do that is _inside_ the un-enter-able building."

"And since this Paracelsus guy is, like, five-hundred years old, I'm guessing you mean Claudia Donovan," Des put in. The others nodded in confirmation. "Well, did anyone ever ask _how_ she managed to hack into a system that, I'm assuming, is more secure and encrypted than the NSA, CIA, and Homeland Security put together?" the younger Bering asked.

If Artie had been Trailer, his ears would have perked up at the moment. As it were, he raised his head as his eyes widened in realization. "Yes," he answered faintly. "Yes, I did. I did! I had her write it all out for me, down to every last dot and backslash." His excitement dimmed as another realization hit him and he slumped, "But then I had her update the systems so no one else could get in the same way she did."

"She did it again after that Tyler boy managed to get his nanites in for Walter Sykes," Jane added.

"And did you had her document _those_ updates as well?" Des pressed on, somewhat impatiently. As Pete watched, he had to admit that it was kind of creepy how similar Des's mannerisms were to that of an agitated Artie.

Artie glared at the newcomer. "Of course I did," he snapped. "I had Leena put them–" He stopped abruptly and his eyes widened, "I had Leena put them in the safe, _here_ at the inn."

Pete jumped up. "Holy megabytes, Batman! We have a way into the Warehouse! At least, the Warehouse _files_," he reasoned.

Artie turned to Des. "You think you can get through the systems using Claudia's computer codes?" he asked with barely concealed hope.

"Get me those scripts and I will," Des told them.

And suddenly, they had a plan.

* * *

**S**teve wasn't Pete, but even he had a bad vibe about their plan as Mrs. Frederick raised her fist to knock on HG Wells's door. He didn't know HG, or '_Helena_' as Myka preferred to call her, very well. The danger she had brought upon the Warehouse and the world had happened before Steve's time, and he had only come face-to-face with the Brit for a few moments before he was killed by Marcus on Sykes's orders; however, he vaguely remembered her crying out for Sykes to spare his life. By the time Claudia and Jane had brought him back to life using the metronome, H.G. had already disappeared with the astrolabe upon Mrs. Frederick's command, but he remembered how it had broken Claudia and Myka.

_"We just get her back and they send her away again,"_ he remembered Claudia telling him, her stubbornness refusing to allow tears to fall. _"No wonder she's so jaded, she keeps getting pulled away from the only things familiar to her in this world. Sheesh, I'd probably try to waste the world too."_

He remembered the way Myka had retreated into herself for several days after she and Pete had returned from Boone the first time, and the look on his BFFWYLION's face when the pair walked through into the inn and closed the door behind them. The way he face had fallen in disappointment as she had asked, _"Uh, guys? Where's H.G.?_" to Myka simply walking up the stairs without a word and Pete sighing and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

He wanted to believe H.G. would return to help them, and he was getting angry even thinking of her likely refusal. Steve took a few cleansing breaths and waited for the door of the house to open.

When it did, it was a little girl who appeared in the doorway. She seemed to analyze each of them in turn before quietly asking, "You're here to speak to Helena, aren't you?" and it wasn't so much a question as it was a statement.

"We are," Mrs. Frederick replied not unkindly. "And might you be Adelaide?"

The girl smiled politely at the mention of her name and nodded, but it was a sad smile. "It's time for her to go back now, isn't it?" Again, another knowing statement instead of a real question.

Mrs. Frederick deliberated on how much to reveal to the bright young woman. "If Helena so wishes it," Mrs. F answered after a moment's hesitation.

"Adelaide? Darling, who is it at the door?" called a familiar voice from inside the house.

The girl looked quickly over her shoulder and then took a step outside, closing the door halfway behind her. She looked seriously at the three strangers who held a history to her Emily, her _Helena_.

"Don't let her give you 'no' for an answer," Adelaide whispered hastily, again checking over her shoulder for Helena's appearance. "The others who were here before - Myka and Pete - they let her send them away, and she hasn't been the same since. She hasn't been happy, not really.

Please," Adelaide pleaded, "I love Helena, but she doesn't belong here, she belongs with all of you, having great adventures. It's who she is. Don't let her stay here, hiding. Just . . . if you could, let her visit?" the girl requested. "Please? I really do love her. She's like my mom."

Mrs. Frederick bent down slightly to be at Adelaide's eye-level. "You're a very smart girl, Adelaide," she complimented the young woman. "And you request will be honored, should Helena decide to return with us. Thank you, for understanding."

The girl nodded, just as the front door finally swung open to reveal a baffled H.G.

"Mrs. Frederick," Helena said in surprise. She looked over the older woman's shoulder, "Agent Jinks?" Her sight caught Abigail, " . . . and, hello, I don't believe we've met before."

"Abigail Chow," the therapist answered with reverence, stretching her hand out to take H.G.'s. "It's an honor to finally be meeting you."

Sensing this was her cue to take her leave, Adelaide bowed her head and offered her hand to the wise, bespectacled lady. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Frederick," she told the woman. She regarded the other two, "Agent Jinks. Ms. Chow."

Mrs. Frederick took it, smiling softly at the charming girl. "The pleasure was all mine, Miss Adelaide."

As she accepted the girl's handshake, Adelaide leaned in and whispered, "Remember what I said." With that, Adelaide excused herself from the situation.

"Miss Wells," Mrs. Frederick began. Helena's eyes shifted to her former overseer and Irene smile, albeit minutely. "We need to talk."

* * *

"**A**nything?" Artie demanded impatiently.

"Not since the last time you asked me, _five minutes ago_," was Des's snappy retort. "With all due respect, sir, I work faster when I don't have someone breathing down my neck and questioning my skills _incessantly_. I promise, I will let you know when I crack Claudia Donovan's security measures, but until then– AH! AHA! HAHAHA! YES! WOO!"

Des jumped up and fist-pumped in celebration as her laptop finally made a beeping noise and the Warehouse system became decrypted on her screen. Artie jumped back in fright as Pete and Jane rushed over to them so that all three were looking over Des's shoulder at the computer.

"You cracked it?!" Pete exclaimed, doing a small happy-dance.

"Technically," Des answered, holding up the print-outs of Claudia's security programs, "Claudia Donovan did." She smiled at him.

"Man," Pete blew out on a previously long-held breath, "I know the girl is good, but this is a whole new level, even for our Claud."

"Apparently," Artie harrumphed with impatience. "Claudia–"

"Hey, check it out!" Des cried, allowing another window to pop up on the screen. "We've even got eyes inside the Warehouse! The controls to the security cams must have automatically activated when the systems shut down. Unfortunately, it's a lot of space to cover in order to find her."

"Can you check to see what alarms have been triggered? Oh, and the heat sensors! They might have picked up her movements, as well as our time-fickle foe's," Artie suggested.

As Des set about working to locate Claudia and Paracelsus, Pete and Jane went on strategizing between themselves and Artie awkwardly cleared his throat. "And, um, well done, Miss . . . Des . . . ?"

"Bering," Des supplied. "Dessa Jules Bering. Cousin of Myka Bering. Pleased to _officially_ be telling you who I am, sir."

Artie stared blankly at the girl, whose own gaze remained fixed on the computer screen. "You're . . ."

"Myka's cousin, yeah," Des finished. Her cheeks reddened almost imperceptibly, "Sorry for not telling you sooner. Mrs. Frederick thought it would be best if I kept my full identity under wraps until I _at least_ managed to earn your approval somewhat."

"And you're the next Warehouse custodian?" he asked.

"Yeah . . . I don't actually know too much about that," Des admitted. She shrugged. "Mrs. Frederick approached me during one of my TA lectures at Oxford, invited me to a world of 'endless wonder'. Something about it . . . I don't know. I just couldn't say no." With her eyes still transfixed on the passing images of the Warehouse on her screen, Des continued, "The first time Mrs. Frederick brought me to the Warehouse . . . I felt like . . . like I was . . . _home_. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was in a place where I really belonged. It was weird."

Artie chuckled. "_Weird_, indeed," he acquiesced.

"I've got eyes," Des announced suddenly.

Perplexed, Artie replied with bewilderment, "Yes, I can see that you do–"

"No. I mean, I have eyes on Claudia Donovan and Mr. Evil himself!" Des exclaimed. She squinted her eyes as she watched a scene play out and read the read-outs. "They're someplace called the . . . the Bronze Sector . . . ?"

Artie sat up and looked the computer from Des's hands. "Dear God, why would they be there? The Bronzer was destroyed! Why would they be there? . . . Unless . . ." Artie peered more closely at the screen, while Des looked over her shoulder at the Lattimers.

"Does he realize that he hasn't answered anything for us?" she questioned.

"He does that," Pete replied, as if it were no big deal.

"And '_he_' is still in the room and not quite deaf, thank you," Artie put in pointedly. He pointed to the screen, "Paracelsus has lead Claudia to the Bronzer. Question: why?"

Pete shrugged. "Because he's a five-hundred-year-old loon? I don't know. Maybe his dementia's acting up and he forgot he destroyed it. Who knows?"

"And, _again_, what in God's holy name is a 'Bronzer'?" Des demanded impatiently. "Because Paracelsus may not be getting any older, but I am and I would like to have my question answered some time before I reach ninety."

"The Bronzer is kind of like a cryogenic-dohickey," Pete explained. "It encases people in bronze, like flash freezing them in time, so they don't age or decay. Also, fun fact: the people who are bronzed remain conscious, which, by the way, is why Paracelsus has had five hundred years to perfect his deranged plan. Another not-so-fun fact? He's the one who _invented_ the bronzing process. He's like Buck Rogers on steroids."

"And we're supposed to stop this guy? Who is already immortal?" Des questioned.

"Which is why Mrs. Frederick, Ms. Chow, and Agent Jinks have gone to try to convince H.G. Wells to help us," Jane explained.

"H.G. Wells? Any relation to _the_ H.G. Wells? The father of science fiction?" Des asked.

"One and the same," Pete answered.

Des paused for a moment in shock. "But how is that . . .?" – Pete pointed to the computer screen showing the Bronze Sector – "Oh," Des finished. "Well, he's got his work cut out for him."

"She," the other three corrected.

Dessa's eyes widened. "H.G. Wells is a woman?!" They nodded. She paused in thought for another moment, before finally stating, "Well that explains a lot."

* * *

**O**nce the four had been seated in the den, the three Warehouse associates had gone about explaining what was happening to Helena. Everything from Sutton a.k.a The Count of St. Germaine, to Charlotte Dupree, to Nick, to Paracelsus trading places with Claudia in the Bronze Sector, to how Artie had procured Donovan DNA to release Claudia, to the current state of the Warehouse's destruction and Claudia remaining behind as the Romani Shackle had again activated the Warehouse barrier. When they were done telling their tale, everyone was silent as Helena processed the overload of information she had been given.

Finally, after several minutes of absolute silence, Steve stood up. "Look, without Claudia, Myka, or you . . . we have no idea where to _start_ looking for a way to stop Paracelsus," he said bluntly.

His statement perked H.G.'s immediate attention.

"Without Myka? Is Myka trapped in the Warehouse as well?" she asked, voice heavy with concern and anxiety at the thought.

All three Warehouse members shuffled uneasily, until Mrs. Frederick finally found her voice to say, "No, Agen– _Miss_ Wells. Agent Bering is not inside the Warehouse."

Helena's worry only seemed to grow at this bit of information. "Well then something serious must be happening to her for her to be incapable of helping," H.G. stated in agitation. She met the eyes of Steve, Abigail, and Mrs. Frederick all in turn but her gaze remained fixed on the latter. "What's happened to Myka?"

There was a long, heavy pause, before Irene finally spoke, "I'm afraid that Myka is very ill, H.G.. Cancer. She was going through surgery while we were trying to stop Paracelsus."

"We have someone staying with her as we speak," Abigail assured the Victorian woman.

"She didn't tell me," Helena said softly to no one in particular.

"She didn't tell anyone," Steve told her. "No one but Pete."

"Myka is a very independent and selfless person," Abigail added. "She internalizes. I imagine she didn't want to burden anyone else with this."

They fell into a deaf silence for several long moments, all lost into their own thoughts of Myka and Claudia and the Warehouse.

"I'm very sorry," Helena eventually said. Everyone one looked to her, and she continued, "I am sincerely sorry for both Myka's state of illness and Claudia's situation. However, I made my decision and I cannot leave my family here to return to the Warehouse. It seems that things are rather bleak enough as it is, and history has shown me that whenever I become involved Warehouse matters, it only proves to worsen the situation."

"Miss Wells–" Mrs. Frederick began, but she was interrupted by H.G.

"Irene," Helena said seriously. "I am very sorry, truly I am, but you have my answer. There is nothing more I can say or do. Now–"

"I can't believe you," Steve growled suddenly. His eyes no longer held their calm quality, but were uncharacteristically angry and hate-filled.

"Excuse me?" Helena asked, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow.

"No," Steve spat, storming up to her as if he were about to punch her lights out. "I've heard about you! You were a member of this family! You were Claudia's hero! Myka loved you– _loves_ you! And you're too selfish and wrapped up in this complete _lie_ you are living in to help the people who you matter to! People who matter to you too!"

Helena was forced to take a step back as the full force of Jinks's anger rained down upon her. Both Abigail and Mrs. Frederick were on their feet in an instant, and from the corner of Helena's eye she could see Mrs. Frederick retrieve a Tesla from within her handbag, readying herself to use it if necessary.

"Agent Jinks," she said sternly to him.

"Steve," Abigail added after he didn't back down.

"They trusted you," Steve went on. "They cared about you and they wanted you to be a part of their family. Claudia and Myka," he said their names, watching Helena flinch as he did so. "They loved you and you mattered to them, and now they are going to die. And that's all on you." The short-haired agent stormed toward the door, but turned back to look at Helena at the last possible second, "You know, maybe Artie was right about you to begin with. Maybe there isn't anything good left inside of you, maybe all that's left in your heart is darkness."

* * *

**So sorry for the delay in update. I had no idea how to proceed from the first chapter but, weirdly enough, a migraine and some Excedrin helped me figure it out.  
So, any reactions to H.G.'s decision not to help and Steve's reaction to her decision?**

**Until next time, peace-out girl scout!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three - I've Got A Feeling

* * *

**At the B&B**

* * *

"**W**e've gotta get a message to Claudia," Pete said, watching his younger sister-figure walk alongside the ancient madman.

"Yes, but _how_?" Artie growled in frustration, tapping his closed Farnsworth in irritation. "The Farnsworths are down, so how?" To himself he added, "Oh, Philo, now is a very bad time to begin failing me."

Des sighed. "Okay, before we go freaking out the only member of the team who can actually _do_ anything," she began, "maybe we should figure out _why_ Paracelsus has brought Claudia into the Bronze Sector?"

"No, no no," Artie said. "_That_" – he pointed to the image of Claudia speaking with Paracelsus – "is exactly _why_ we need to get a message to Claudia- to find out why Paracelsus had brought her specifically to _that_ location."

"You think he's going all 'Dr. Doom' and telling her all about his diabolical plan?" Pete asked. "Because, that'd be great if we could hear, but this guy seems a little too paranoid for that age-old downfall."

A sharp whistle was let out, causing all three of the theorists to fall silent in order to cover their ears as they turned to see Jane Lattimer bringing her fingers down from her lips. As nonchalantly as was possible after nearly bursting three people's eardrums, she asked, "Can I get a word in here?"

The three nodded to the Regent and the woman continued, "I believe it matters less _why_ Paracelsus has brought Claudia to the Bronze Sector and _what_ it is that he's telling her, than it is that he actually _has_. Think about it, she is the only living person standing in the way of him enacting his plan, and yet he hasn't made any move to harm her. Now, why is _that_?"

Dessa's eyes widened in realization. "He thinks she's on his side," she stated, turning her gaze to the scene on her screen. She looked back to the others, "I don't know Claudia, so I have to ask this: is it possible that she _has_ been swayed onto his side?"

"No," Pete answered with immediate certainty. "Claud would never do that."

"Pete–" Artie began, like he was going to argue.

"No!" the dark-haired man restated firmly. "Artie, come on! This is _our_ Claudia we're talking about here! No way would she ever betray this family."

Artie sighed. "But I'm afraid I might have turned her against us by withholding information about her sister. That is a very big betrayal in Claudia's eyes and she doesn't understand _who_ her sister has become."

They all fell silence, but Des could feel Pete's anger from across the room, Artie's distress at the thought of finally pushing Claudia away for good, and Jane's uneasiness at the entire situation. Then, she felt something else.

"She hasn't betrayed you," Des suddenly stated with absolute certainty.

The three looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. She was starting to think maybe she had, or, at the very least, another heart.

"Des?" Jane asked.

"I-I don't know . . . how . . ." She stopped and swallowed hard, running her fingers through her dark hair. "I feel . . . connected . . like, like I can _feel_ what Claudia is feeling right now." Des's stare turned to Jane. "Is that even possible?"

"Whoa. Hold up, time-out!" Pete called, making a 'time-out' sign with his hands. He looked between his mother and Myka's younger cousin. "How would my mom know that? And what do you mean you can 'feel'" – he used air-quotes around the word – "what Claudia is feeling?"

"Peter," Jane began, "Des, like all the rest of you, has a specific talent. You have your vibes, Myka has her perfect memory and eye for detail as well as her judge of character, Steven can tell when people are lying, and Des . . ." She looked at the newest member of the team, "can feel the emotions of others around her. Hyper-empathy, is what The Regents refer to is as. It is a very rare and uncommon gift, but it is as real as your vibes." Her gaze returned to Des, "Now, as to whether or not you would be able to feel Claudia's emotions from such a distance remains to be seen, but it is possible that your potential to become the next Warehouse curator caused a bond to be established with Claudia when she assumed the role of Caretaker. So yes, it is entirely possible."

Des nodded, taking in this information and trying to compartmentalize the way she imagined Myka might have. "Then, assuming that that's the case, Claudia is definitely playing Paracelsus and she's doing a pretty bang-up job of it too. Also, she's totally wigging out."

"Now _that_ I can understand," Pete said, pointing to the dark-haired girl. "Trapped in an inescapable, expanding, unstable building with a guy who's totally off his rocker? Yeah, I'd be wigging out too."

"And, if building's could talk, the Warehouse would be screaming bloody murder right now," Des said, rubbing her temples. "It's like it has feelings of its own or something."

"_That_," came Mrs. Frederick's voice, "is because it _does_, Miss Bering."

The four looked up to find their newly returned colleagues standing in the door. Pete counted only three.

"Hey, where's H.G.?" he asked.

"Probably sleeping in her safe, warm bed next her completely clueless, normal boyfriend," Steve muttered darkly. He met their eyes. "She's not going to be of any help to us. Anything on Claudia or Paracelsus?"

"WHAT?" Pete erupted. "No. No way! You're joking, right? 'H.G.'s not helping', that's a joke, right?" He looked to Mrs. Frederick and Abigail and saw their matching frowns. Desperately, as if pleading with them to yell, 'haha! jk! we're totally punking you!', he asked, "Right?"

"She made her decision," Abigail said with the same grave anger as Steve. "I suppose we have to respect that."

Pete shook his head and Des thought he might burst into tears at any moment. "No. No way," he repeated. "H.G. wouldn't do that. You told her about Myka, right? If there's one thing I know about that crazy old bat, it's that she would never give up and turn her back on Myka _or_ the Warehouse!" He looked around. "Right?" Pete caught Artie's gaze, "Artemis, man! Back me up here!"

"I'm inclined to agree with Pete on this," Artie said. He turned away from them to look at Dessa, "Flag all financial information on anyone using the name of H.G. Wells, Emily Lake, Helena, or any characters' names from the H.G. Wells novels. If she makes a move, we need to know about it." Des nodded and set to work, typing furiously at the keyboard. "For now, we focus on Claudia, Paracelsus, and _any_ information that could lead us to a way to strip that man of his newly gained immortality and put an end to his plans."

"Should we seek out Sutton and Nick?" Abigail suggested. "They're the only living people who know anything about Paracelsus's life and experiments."

"It's a start," Artie agreed. "Pete, you and Abigail try to locate Sutton and Nick and pay them a visit. Des, keep an eye on that screen at all times and Steve will help you in any way you need. Jane, Mrs. Frederick, and I will meet with Mr. Kosan and the Regents and discuss what plans they have developed." To Des and Pete, he also added, "I'll call the Warehouse doctor and see if she's available to keep watch over Myka."

"It has already been seen to, Arthur," Mrs. Frederick assured him. "Dr. Calder is with Agent Bering as we speak."

"Good!" Pete exclaimed in relief. He looked at Des, "Vanessa Calder: Warehouse doctor and Artie's _love_. Dr. V will make sure Mykes is all good. It'll be okay."

Des nodded with a small, albeit subdued, smile. "Okay."

* * *

"**A**rtie said Sutton and Nick are staying in New Hampshire. I just need to update Mykes before we head for the airport," Pete explained to Abigail as they drove toward the hospital.

"Are you going to tell her about H.G. Wells?" Abigail asked him gently.

Pete thought about it, but who was he kidding? He wasn't as clueless as everyone made him out to be. He knew that Myka was into 'Helena', as she called the Brit, in a way that was more than just platonic. Myka felt something for H.G. that even Pete, her closest friend and confidante, could never understand, and to ruin that by tarnishing H.G.'s reputation with Myka seemed too harsh for Pete to even think about.

"No," he answered. "And I still don't really think that H.G.'s just going to fade back into her nice, normal life and let Myka and Claudia die. That Brit's up to something. I've got a feeling.

"Do you think Claudia's okay in there with that man? I mean, I'm a therapist so I hate to use words like 'psycho', but . . . if the diagnosis fits . . ."

Pete sighed and leaned back, gripping the wheel tightly in clenched hands. "Claud's a lot tougher than we give her credit for," he said. "She's the baby of the Warehouse family, you know? But Leena always used to say . . ." He trailed off, his ears turning red as he looked sideways guiltily at Abigail and didn't continue.

"Pete, it's okay to talk about Leena. In fact, it's healthy," Abigail told him calmly. "And it doesn't upset me. She was so much a part of all of your lives, but I understand that I'm not her, and that's okay." She looked him with sincerity. "It's okay to talk about Leena. I'd very much like to hear about her."

Pete sighed and ran a hand over his head. "Leena always used to say that Claudia was the best of all of us, because she grew up taking a little bit from everyone," he finished. "She was the strongest because she was raised in the Warehouse, and we raised her there, and eventually . . . we were going to have to let go and let her take over, because that was her purpose." He looked deep in thought for a moment before finally saying, "I never understood what she meant, until now and I guess I just wish I could hear her tell me it again. Leena had this way . . . She could convince anyone of anything, but she knew when to let people make it their own too." His voice became thick toward the end and he cleared it gruffly. "I just miss her sometimes."

Abigail reached forward and set her hand on one of Pete's at the wheel. "She's with you. Sometimes I think I can feel a little bit of her left at the inn, lingering in the ether," Abigail said.

Pete chuckled. "That actually wouldn't surprise me. I still feel her everywhere," he admitted. "She used to say I was 'in tune'. Sometimes I wonder if that's why."

It had been a long time since Pete had felt comfortable talking to anyone about their fallen innkeeper. The pain of her loss was still fresh in everyone's minds, and the memory of her lifeless body on the floor of the Bronze Sector still kept both Pete and Myka up at night. She never said it, but Pete knew that was why he found Myka sitting up on the back porch in the middle of the night so many times, a faint reminder of their first night at Leena's.

It felt good to talk about the friend they had lost, the woman who had given her life for her family, and the ghost that still lingered over and inside of each of them.

* * *

"**U**h, hey, Jinks?"

"Hey what?" Steve asked Des, looking up from a Warehouse file that Des at wired to his tablet.

"Remember how Artie told me to put a trace on any H.G. related accounts?" Des asked, waiting for Steve's affirmative nod before she continued, "Well, a Gale Henswell just bought two plane tickets for a flight from Chicago to Philadelphia International Airport, one with a final destination of Cairo, Egypt and the other ending up in Hong Kong."

"So?"

"So, Gale Henswell is an anagram for Helena G. Wells," Des informed in factually. "I broadened the search a bit past Artie's parameters."

Steve paused, his head perked up. "Wait, you said one of the flights is headed for Hong Kong?" he asked.

"Yeah," she answered, not sure how that was exactly valuable information.

Steve stood up from his seat at the sunroom table and circled around to look over Des's shoulder. "Is there _any_ way that you could book us on a flight that would put us in Hong Kong around the same time as Gale Henswell?" he asked. "Or, even in the city of Tai Po before she could manage to make it there from Hong Kong?"

Des looked at him like he was crazy, but answered anyway. "Well, if her flight from Chicago hadn't departed twenty minutes ago, I would have said yes but . . ." Gears began grinding in her head and she pulled her phone from her pocket.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked.

Des dialed a number before explaining. "I've got a friend with a jet which just happens to be in Denver right now and this friend owes me a _huge_ favor," she explained. With a coy smirk she added, "I would say a direct flight to Tai Po would be considered a huge favor, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah, I think that would classify," Jinks answered.

And again, they had another plan. It seemed to Des that they were just chock full of them lately.

* * *

**So I got bit by the writer's bug and decided to update again to make up for 19 days of no updates. **

**Props to everyone who called Helena _not_ ditching the Warehouse gang. Everyone else, you should know better.**

**Until next time...**


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